


Asta's Coffee, Snacks and Guns

by enviropony



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coffee Shops, F/F, Happy Ending, Light Angst, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/pseuds/enviropony
Summary: Coffee shops... aren't what they used to be.





	Asta's Coffee, Snacks and Guns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saiditallbefore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/gifts).



> For the prompt: Post-Apocalyptic Coffee Shop Owner/Post-Apocalyptic Mercenary (f/f). What is a post-apocalyptic coffee shop even like? Does the mercenary stop by there between jobs?

Coffee shops... aren't what they used to be. For one thing, real coffee is hard to get hold of, and expensive. For another, any place that only sells _one_ thing is going to go out of business very fast. 

Asta's coffee shop sells the rare coffee, for when someone wants to splurge on their date, but mostly beer and clean water, snack cakes, sandwiches, fruit, honey, bullets and matches. Now and then she moves one of the guns in the glass display case on the wall, or a knife. She traded a bag of whole coffee beans for a sword once, and wasn't that a mistake? The sword still hangs above the kitchen door, mocking her. 

Living post-disaster is nothing like the video games. There are no zombies, and nobody uses swords.

It's been twenty years. Asta still remembers playing games on her PS4. 

The rumble of a familiar engine has Asta looking at the door. It's a few minutes before her favorite customer comes in, eyes drawn to the specials board after a cursory sweep of the empty shop. 

"How are you, Shanice?"

"Still alive, how about yourself?" Shanice ponders the specials. "Cut price on venison and cheese today?"

"Bobby took a machine gun out to the soybean field the other day," Asta says, a little embarrassed by her cousin. "We were gutting deer for half the night."

"I'll take one, and whatever Jamie Dors brewed this week." Shanice sits down at the counter. "Been quiet around here?"

Asta puts some lard on the frying pan and turns up the heat on the stove before going to the fridge to get the beer. "It has been, ever since you brought that bunch of roughs through. You all really cleaned up the neighborhood."

"We aim to please," Shanice says with a grin. "And to get paid. The bonus Andy gave us sure put this place on the map. Any time you need some help, send a message to the bay. There's always going to be a gang willing to come up."

"That's good to hear," Asta says, popping the top off the beer and setting it in front of Shanice. "I hope the town coffers can take another hit like that. We're doing well, but..."

"You never know what tomorrow will bring," Shanice finishes, and takes a swig. Asta shamelessly watches her scarred, slender hands around the bottle, her throat exposed as she swallows. 

Shanice puts the beer down and gives her a chastising look. "What have I said about looking at me like that?"

"Don't, 'cause you're trouble," Asta says, exasperated. "I don't care if you're trouble, darling. You're funny and gorgeous and brave and you've got a hell of a big heart. I can't help liking that."

"I do not have a big heart," Shanice shoots back, as if insulted by the idea. "I kill people for a living, baby, there's nothing big-hearted about that."

"Bullshit. I saw you crying over that Morris boy last year." Asta glances at the frying pan, and realizes she forgot to put on the venison strips. As she pulls them out of the fridge, she says, "And I know the reason you ride a dirt bike is because you're afraid of a horse getting shot out from under you, never mind how much cheaper horses are to feed than bikes are to gas up. I've seen you sidestep worms, for god's sake! Big. Heart."

Shanice blushes. "I just don't like the way they feel under my feet."

"Uh-huh." Asta goes to the bread board and slices a generous hunk off the loaf that's sitting out. Her uncle had just made fresh bread this morning. "That's all it is. Don't like worm guts."

Shanice shakes her head and takes another pull of her beer. "I told you to leave off, so can you please leave off?"

"I don't understand why," Asta protests. "Don't you want somebody to come home to?"

Shanice doesn't say anything, and Asta is afraid she's overstepped. She works on the sandwich in silence, trying to ignore the tension in the air.

"I don't come home often," Shanice says after a while, very quietly.

"Maybe you would if you had something to look forward to," Asta replies.

"And spend all my time worrying about what's going on at home? Who's creepin' around the back yard, who's riding through town?"

"Or you could just _stay_ home," Asta says. "Take a break for a while. And if anything bad rolls through, we'd have an experienced gunner to deal with it."

Shanice snorts. "Just me on my own, huh? You think too highly of my skills."

"Oh, whatever, I'm trying to ask you to stay here with me!"

"And I'm trying to tell you 'no!'"

Asta huffs, slides Shanice's sandwich in front of her and slams the frying pan into the sink. 

"It's not a crime to say 'no,' girl," Shanice says, not picking up the sandwich. "Don't get all huffy."

"I worry about you, okay?" Asta turns to Shanice, eyes watering. "I worry that one day it'll be a month before I hear that engine, then five weeks, then six, and you won't ever come back. I just want you safe!"

"Baby, my job is not safe," Shanice says, surprisingly gentle, "and I don't know how to do any other."

"Then I'll teach you, or Bobby will, or my uncle. There's so many things to do that don't involve going out and getting shot at. You're important to me, Shanice. You're a good person and the world would be worse off without you. I'd be worse off without you." Now Asta's crying for real, ugly sobs that probably make her look like a mess, but she can't help it. She cares about Shanice and she doesn't know what to do if Shanice really doesn't care back.

But Shanice comes around the counter and pulls Asta into her arms. "Hey, hey, it's all right. You can cry, it's all right, I'm here. I'm here." 

They stand like that for a long time. When Asta gets hold of herself and pulls away, she feels her heart clench. "Oh, I made you cry, too."

"Yeah, you did, baby." Shanice wipes her eyes, then takes Asta's hands in hers. "I don't like seeing you sad."

Asta doesn't know how to reply, but her pulse thrums hopefully.

"Hey, Asta," Shanice says, looking up at the ragged menu board. "Can I buy you a coffee?"

-end-


End file.
